


4 8 15 16 23 42

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lost
Genre: F/M, Jacob is fucking Jacob being all elusive and shit, Lost Meets Harry Potter, Not Edited No Beta, Oceanic Flight 815, Remus is Jack, The island - Freeform, Tonks is sorta Kate, We have to go back!, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: Remus Lupin gets on Oceanic Flight 815 to LA, but he doesn't ever end up in LA.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4
Collections: Love for KrumPuffer





	4 8 15 16 23 42

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrumPuffer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrumPuffer/gifts).



> Hi, KrumPuffer. Maybe we can write a whole series of Lost/Harry Potter fics together. 
> 
> Thank you for loving Harry Potter and Lost as much as I do. Thank you for the past few years of friendship. Thank you for being part of my life. Thank you for being a constant well of love and compassion and humor and talks of food and dreams and writing. I love you; I'm grateful for you, friend.

Creamy brown eyes with flecks of the wolf's good and amber shot opened as if awaking from a nightmare. He turned his head. A dog’s muzzle, wet and cool, was against his ear for a moment before leaving and running into the growth of vegetation beside him.  _ Padfoot? No _ , he reminded himself.  _ Padfoot is dead _ .

Slowly, he sat up, he was surrounded by bright green and flourishing vegetation. Silently he took in his surroundings, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, ignoring the feeling of sticky drying blood. 

_ Where am I?  _

***

  
  


Remus Lupin sat on Oceanic Airlines Flight 815 from Sydney, Australia to Los Angeles. 

He didn't like flying on an aeroplane. Flying a broom was different. A broom he could control. Plus, there was something about being in the air for this long that messed with his lycanthropy. 

He had spent so much time lately on planes. Most were short flights. One location quickly to another, but while in Sydney, someone had told him--a wizard named Jacob--that he needed to get on a flight to Los Angeles as soon as possible. He'd even told him the plane to get on, shoved the tickets in his hands, grasped onto his hands with his own, looked him in the eye, the man's icy blue meeting his own and pleaded:  _ Get on this flight. _

When the turbulence started, those words rang in Remus' ears.  _ Get on this flight. Get on this flight. Get on this flight.  _ The man, Jacob, had seemed more insistent that Remus be on the flight, not that he got to LA.

He shut his eyes, did the breathing exercises he'd learned at the Buddhist temple in Japan. He felt suction behind him. Knew the back end of the plane had been ripped off. He had one hand on his wand and the other on the armrest of his chair. 

He heard a man in the back chanting numbers over and over. 

He heard a woman crying about her baby. 

He heard a cussing. 

Then he heard nothing. 

***

Standing up, he only had to walk a few feet before he stepped out of the jungle and into utter chaos. The plane on fire, people screaming and crying. He immediately jumped into action, helping the pregnant woman up and moving her to a different location, stopping someone from looting medicine. He had tried, with discretion, to do magic, but no magic seemed to work. He didn't have the chance to consider it then, but something seemed to be stopping him from doing magic, as his wand hadn't been damaged. For several hours, he managed to get things sorted. He gave jobs to people--this kept people calm and gave them a purpose. 

Finally, he grabbed the hand of a woman who seemed the least distraught and pulled her into the woods.

"Oye! What do you think you're doing?"

He shook his head and observed her. She had pink hair that stopped below her ear.

"You're a witch." 

"Come again?" She looked around where they stood suspiciously. 

"I'm a wizard. Does your magic work?"

It took her a few minutes, her sapphire blue eyes studying him. "No." She shook her head and pressed her lips tightly together.

Remus sighed. "Okay. Are you hurt?"

"No." Her head shook again, her words chopped.

"Are you always so talkative?"

"No." 

He stared at her and then the both of them laughed, relieving some of the tension.

She looked down at the ground, her Doc Martens specked with sand. "I'm sorry, truly. I wasn't trying to be rude. I'm a bit...off. Understandable, though, yeah?" She shrugged a bit and smile

He nodded and let out a staccatoed laugh, "Yeah. This is... bizarre."

Moving his hands behind his back he stretched a bit and winced.

"Have you ever stitched someone up? With a needle, not magic."

She shook her head, "No."

"Ever sewn before? Without magic?" He rummaged in his pockets, pulled out a thread and a needle, followed by two mini bottles of vodka. 

"Eh. I've put patches on a jean jacket, and are we drinking already? I don't even know your name."

He laughed. Glad to see she was warming up. "It's to sterilize the wound. I've got a gash on my back, I can feel it. You're going to have to sew me up...ok?"

"No, not okay. I don't know. What if I hurt you? I'm Tonks, by the way." She reached out her hand. 

He took it, her hand wasn't dainty and small, her hand felt warm and soft and her magic seemed to radiate through her right grip. 

"Remus, and you won't hurt me."

Without hesitation he pulled off his shirt and turned his back to her, handing her the supplies. 

"Can we sit on the ground?" She inquired. 

He settled with his legs crossed on the ground and she leaned behind him. He felt her fingers trace his scars, and he hoped she wouldn't ask. 

In no more than a whisper, she said, "These scars. You're...you're a werewolf aren't you?"

He hunched over, buried his face in his hands, and nodded. 

With her hand still on his back, she splayed her fingers out across his skin, each of her fingers touched a different scar. He felt warmed by her touch. Calmed, even, consider the situation. 

He felt her body press against him as she leaned against him, whispering in his ear. 

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, however, I have a feeling you won't shift here, that is if we're still here during the full moon. Which is coming up, so I suppose it's likely." Even though the idea of him shifting here, in this place with all these innocent people, he felt oddly calmed by her presence, and even by the comforting shadow of the trees and brush and overgrowth around them. 

Her body felt so good against his, his more primal urges were scratching at the door, begging to be let out, out he pushed them down, and let his mind mull over everything she had just said. 

Immediately, his mind went back to Jacob. The stranger of a man who insisted Remus be on that flight. He was struck with several questions, did he, somehow cause the plane to crash? Was he supposed to be here? Was this why he had to get on the plane, to get to this place, this place that paused magic, paused his lycanthropy?

"Yes. I was bitten as a child. I've been searching all over the world for a cure, and I…"

"You've found it. Here." She let her hand wave and gestured towards the trees and sky.

"Well, there's no proof, no science…"

"Scientifically, Remus, we, as wizards, and you, a werewolf, shouldn't exist, but we do. You can be a science person or a faith person. I'm a faith person, and, right now, you should be, too." She smiled and pushed a strand of hair back from his face. 

"Take a leap of faith that this place is your destiny. That there's a reason you're here. A…" she faltered, almost as if she was unsure if she wanted to say what she was going to say. "A reason I'm here, too. Can you do that?"

Their faces were close and he thought he might kiss her when he nodded in response. 

Her smile shined like a crescent moon. She gently slapped his back and said, "Good. Let me sew you up now." 

Letting his mind go to a place of meditation as she stitched him up, he let himself believe what she said. He had been searching after all, not for a cure, but for a remedy, for some to ease his shifts, to ease the pain and anxiety, to help his mind remain his. He didn’t believe there was a cure, didn’t believe anything could stop him from becoming a werewolf each month, but maybe, just maybe, the answer was here, on this place, on this island.

  
  
  
  



End file.
